


Insomnia

by xaandiir



Category: Sanders Sides, Thomas Sanders
Genre: Gen, Mentions of Panic Attacks, Nightmares, Sleep fic, fainting spells, vague horror imagery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-01
Updated: 2017-08-01
Packaged: 2018-12-09 21:54:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11677827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xaandiir/pseuds/xaandiir
Summary: Virgil can't sleep because of nightmares and the other Sides find out.





	Insomnia

Insomnia. It makes you stay up late into the night and when you finally lay down to sleep, you can't seem to close your eyes. Then, on the off chance that you managed to fall asleep, you're shaken awake by invisible hands, left to stare at your ceiling, once again unable to close your eyes despite how exhausted you feel.

Virgil hated insomnia. But he hated sleeping even more. Unlike the insomniacs who wouldn't grasp sleep for some unknown reason, Virgil knew exactly why he couldn't sleep for long: nightmares. He'd had them for as long as he could remember. Violent dreams with shocking imagery or suffocating suspense that would wake him in a cold sweat and leave him too jittery to sleep again. Horrifying dreams that made him avoid his bed for as long as possible, for fear of drifting off and encountering more terrors. Terrifying dreams that made him lash out in his sleep, knocking something over or smashing a glass of water he left on his bed stand and wake him up to the sound with the imagery of a gun going off still rattling in his brain.

Yes, Virgil really hated sleep. So he avoided it as much as he could. He would go entire nights without sleeping, if he could, instead opting to search for new music or watch television shows all over again. Sometimes exhaustion got the best of him and he drifted off to sleep, but then he was met with those horrifying nightmares, a mixture of anxiety and his own insecurities, and he would be violently torn back into the waking world, where sleep would not be wanted, nor would come.

Sometimes, if he was lucky, he would pass out from sleep deprivation. He didn't stay asleep, of course, that would be dangerous—he'd casually asked Logan about it after he passed out for the first time—but he was often even more exhausted after recovering that when he fell asleep shortly after, he didn't dream. It was some of the rare times that he was able to actually get some sleep, but even then it was fitful and he didn't feel fully rested. He stayed in his room enough that when he passed out, nobody else would know. He would be on his bed, or the floor, and then everything would go black. He was safe. There was no reason to worry.

The problem was passing out when he  _wasn't_  in his room

"Morning Sleeping Beauty," Roman sang as he plopped down at the breakfast table. Virgil only groaned in response, refusing to lift his head from the table. He hadn't slept in the past two straight days and it was really starting to mess with him. His head felt like it was stuffed with cotton and he kept tasting  _colors_ , how could he taste colors? But that's definitely red on his tongue. "You have to sit up to eat."

"Pat hasn't brought the food yet," Virgil mumbled.

Logan hummed, turning a page in his book. He spent as much time as he could reading, from the moment he woke until the moment he went to bed. Virgil felt a twinge of envy at the thought. Logan could sleep. He operated on a stiff schedule, actually. Virgil knew he went to bed at precisely ten at night and woke up at six in the morning. He wanted that. He  _needed_  that. But he couldn't get it.

"Regardless," said Logan, "it's important that you sit up to promote activity and energy flow. You'll only feel more exhausted if you lay like that."

Virgil groaned wordlessly, but finally lifted his head just as Patton walked over with their plates. Virgil's head felt like it was filled with water and his brain was swimming laps. He tasted purple now, and it was sliding into blue. Blue like water, the water in his head, the water pouring out of his ears and onto the floor, fish swimming between his eyeballs.

Patton waved a hand in front of his face. "Kiddo? Did you hear me?"

"Sorry," Virgil said. He forced his eyes to focus. Logan hadn't even looked up and Roman was looking at him with that playful smirk of his. Patton just looked a little concerned. "I spaced out. What did you say?"

"I said if you wanted any water, you'll have to grab it. My hands were too full to get drinks."

Virgil's response was still slow. He was really out of it. "Uh. Sure." He stood up and headed to the fridge. He almost forgot to get a glass, and that would have been hard to explain. Virgil retrieved a glass from the cupboard and set to filling it with water. He seemed to nod off for a moment because suddenly water was overflowing onto his hand. After wiping off his hand, Virgil headed back towards the table. He caught Patton's eye for a moment, and then everything went black.

For a moment, he was suspended in space. He was falling, falling, light coming towards him, a star exploding, a man he'd never seen looking at him, smiling, offering a hand. Then the dream was gone and Virgil could see—not see, exactly. It was fuzzy. There were so many stars, black stars, lights dancing, ultimately just darkness. Everything was so dizzying, distant. He heard voices, distorted, like they were calling down a tunnel. His body, detached, being moved. Everything was so heavy. Was he still falling? He saw the figures again, outlines really, the voices didn't seem to match the bodies.

Virgil was so tired.

Hands on him, pulling him somewhere. His legs didn't work. He felt…empty. And overflowing. Was he sitting now? When did that happen? Someone was rocking him. This was…strange. Foreign. Familiarly warm. He pressed his face against whoever's chest he was laying against. No movement. More voices. Worry? Concern? The voices had emotions now. Virgil still tasted purple.

It was slow, but Virgil was able to recover, slowly. He began to remember what happened. He was tired, he was hungry, there was a glass, then…nothing. He must have passed out. Virgil had fainted enough times in his room to remember what this was. It was still horribly disorienting, though. His ears were ringing now, making it harder to hear the voices. The words were garbled. He couldn't understand them. His vision was starting to come back.

"Is his head okay?" Patton's voice cut through the fog suddenly, and then everything else disappeared. It was a simple sentence that Virgil latched onto and analyzed as though he were in perfect clarity. Whose head? Probably Virgil's considering he passed out and probably hit his head. The glass was no longer in his hand so was Patton worried about broken glass? Virgil didn't feel any blood—granted he didn't feel much of anything yet, it was still numb—and he didn't feel any more unusual than the other times he passed out.

"'s fine," Virgil slurred, the words tumbling over his mouth like a drunkard in a bar. The voices stopped for a moment and the rocking continued.

After a couple minutes, Virgil was finally able to focus and concentrate. He lifted his head and found that he was back in the living room—well the mindspace version of the living room—in Patton's lap. Logan was seated on the ottoman, no book in sight, and Roman was pacing anxiously. All eyes were on him when he sat him.

"Kiddo?" Patton said gently. He brushed at part of Virgil's hair. Virgil still felt weirdly dissociated from his body, so he didn't try to push the gesture away. "How are you feeling?"

Virgil blinked slowly. It was still hard to process things. To  _feel_  things. He was used to going to sleep right after this. This was new. "Um. Yeah."

"You passed out," Logan said. He sounded cautious. Why was he cautious? What was wrong? What did Virgil do?

"Yes."

"So…you're okay after that?" Patton asked. "You're not hurt?"

"No."

Roman finally stopped pacing. "Why did you faint?"

"I don't know. I'm tired."

Wrong answer. The others just looked more worried at that. Patton was the first to speak, asking, "How much did you sleep last night?"

"Patton, I'm fine. I was just a little dizzy. I'm okay now."

Logan shook his head, saying, "That is not fine, Virgil. We're Sides, and while we can't die due to sleep, food, or water deprivation, we can still feel the physical effects. We must keep good habits so that they may rub off on Thomas. If you're not getting enough sleep, it can affect Thomas negatively."

Virgil stared, uncomprehending. He managed to understand that Logan was worried more about Thomas than he was about Virgil. That kind of stung.

Logan must have realized what Virgil's line of thinking was—Logan was always so good at figuring that out, wasn't he? How? Did he have some sort of mind powers? That seemed plausible to Virgil at the moment—because he added, "And it affects  _you_  negatively. We don't want that. We want you healthy and…and not passing out in the kitchen."

Virgil thought about saying that he'd just pass out in his bedroom, but he had recovered enough awareness to not say that.

"Kiddo," Patton said again, gently, carefully. "How much sleep did you get last night?" Virgil shrugged. He was certain he wouldn't help his case if he said he didn't sleep at all. "Okay well…can you give an estimation? How much sleep do you usually get?"

There was a long pause as Virgil considered the question. "I think…six hours…"

Logan nodded. "It would be best if you had more, but that's not—"

"A week..." The attention on Virgil when he said that was suffocating and he regretted it immediately. Patton looked especially worried, but the look of intense concern on Roman's face was really weird. "But I'm fine."

"That is  _not_  fine!" Roman cried. "How can you function on such little sleep? Doesn't that make you, make you…less attentive? Doesn't anxiety have to be  _more_  attentive?"

"Amazingly, feeling constantly on edge will keep me alert even with little sleep."

Patton squirmed in his seat. "That's still not good, Virgil! You need more sleep!"

"I can't sleep."

Logan leaned forward and Virgil knew he was about to receive therapy, free of charge. "Is there anything in particular that is keeping you from being able to sleep? Being exposed to blue light, not getting enough exercise, eating too soon before bed. Those can all prevent you from sleeping properly."

Virgil groaned and shook his head. "No, it's nothing like that. I just…I can't. I don't want to."

"Why would you not want to sleep?" asked Roman. "Sleeping is wonderful! It recharges you and you're left with sweet, enjoyable dreams."

"That's just it." Virgil rolled his eyes. "They're not enjoyable."

"What do you mean?"

"I have nightmares." Virgil groaned and rubbed his eyes. "Like, all the time. I can't sleep without having one, so I don't like to sleep. And when I do, I don't sleep well."

There was a long silence as his words sunk in, before Roman said, "Well of course not! Not when you sleep in  _your_  room! Your room is a conglomeration of fears and anxieties!"

"Your point is?"

"Even if you're Anxiety, it must be exhausting. So you should try sleeping in our rooms for a change."

Virgil stared at him dully. "What?"

"Honestly, how hard did you hit your head when you fell? Just sleep in one of our rooms. You can even sleep in mine!" Roman smiled. "My room promotes positive creativity. Not only will you have a pleasant dream, but it will be one with far more fascinating details than you could achieve in your room."

Virgil sighed. "Fine. Whatever you say, Princey."

* * *

 

"I still think this is stupid," Virgil sighed as he laid down on Roman's bed. Roman hummed, finishing changing into his pajamas and slipping into the other side of the bed. "And it's weird that I have to. Like. Sleep next to you."

"Well I'm not sleeping in  _your_  room, and I'm not about to sleep on the couch. So, you must get used to it." Roman settled under the covers and turned so he could face Virgil. "If you're really uncomfortable with this, you don't have to be here. But we want you to sleep, and clearly, you're not going to get any if you stay in your room. We can at least try this."

"Yeah, yeah." Virgil groaned and threw his arm over his face. "I'm going to hit you in the face."

Roman gasped, offended. "How dare you!"

Virgil groaned louder. "No! I thrash around when I have a nightmare, so I'm just telling you. Because you're  _right next to me,_  I'm probably going to end up hitting you in the face."

That seemed to make sense to Roman and he nodded. "Well I promise I won't be offended. But I don't think you're going to have a nightmare here. So just relax, alright? You just need to sleep."

"I guess." Virgil shifted and drew the covers up to his chin. Roman turned off the lamp, bathing the room in darkness. Virgil stared at the wall for a while, until he heard Roman's breathing shift as he fell into slumber. Virgil had felt strange since staying in the room, and it made him anxious. One another's rooms always affected them, and Roman's room made Virgil feel like he couldn't turn his brain off—at least, more so than usual. Different ideas raced in his head, none of which were exactly positive, and many of which revolved around the ways he was going to have a terrible nightmare and end up breaking something in Roman's room, or maybe even hurting Roman. It put Virgil really on edge.

He shook his head and closed his eyes. He had to try to sleep. This was a positive room, and Roman was with him. It would be fine. It had to be. So, after forcing himself to relax, sleep finally took Virgil

Unfortunately, his dream was anything but positive. Virgil normally had haunting dreams with various dangerous imagery or a constant feeling of suspense, but it was almost never anything that Virgil could see, or remember. It was vague and haunting in his room. In Roman's room, everything was in sharp focus, and the horrors he saw were horribly vivid. The blood too bright, the snarls too loud, claws too sharp. It all felt so real, so horrifically real that when Virgil was shaken awake, he was still caught in the dream. He thrashed and shoved away whatever was attacking him and he fell out of bed, legs still tangled into the sheets. Roman recovered from being pushed quickly enough and pulled Virgil up from the floor.

"Virgil! Virgil, it's okay!" Roman said frantically, but Virgil didn't seem to hear him. His breathing was out of control and he didn't seem like he was fully awake either. It took a solid five minutes to finally get Virgil to focus on Roman's breathing exercise and calm down.

Virgil's head throbbed and he held it in his hands. Roman sat beside him, rubbing his back. It was silent, now, and the unspoken words hung in the air, heavy, like a blanket. Virgil wanted to sleep so badly, but he hadn't had a nightmare that intense in so long. It left him feeling even more exhausted, but the jitters and adrenaline that made his shoulders shake and chest ache made it clear that he wouldn't be sleeping again tonight.

"I'm sorry," Roman said softly. "I didn't realize how…how intense your nightmares were."

"That one was worse," Virgil mumbled. "They usually aren't…aren't quite that bad."

Roman was silent for a little while, before whispering softer, "I'm sorry." Virgil hated that. That wasn't Roman. Roman didn't apologize. Roman wasn't…He didn't…No. This wasn't like him, and it was too strange. Virgil didn't like this, this more vulnerable Roman, who felt  _guilt_  about something.

Virgil shook his head and lifted it from his hands. "It's fine."

"My idea only made matters worse." Roman stared at the ground and Virgil could feel how upsetting this was for Roman. Roman already was uncomfortable about his ideas and how ineffective they could be, from time to time. This was probably just another big blow to his ego.

"It's still a…a good idea," Virgil said. "Maybe it's just not your room that will help. It might be Logan's, or Patton's."

Roman still looked disappointed at that suggestion, but he seemed a little more hopeful. He looked at Virgil. "Did you want to try one of their rooms?"

"Sure. But not tonight. I don't think I can sleep anymore."

The worry in Roman's eyes made Virgil's gut twist. But Roman just said, "Okay."

* * *

 

"I still don't know if this will help," Virgil groaned. He sat on the edge of Logan's bed, trying not to be too jittery. He hadn't been there for long, but already it felt like his emotions were draining and things were becoming more…structured. He felt like liquid being crystalized into solid ice, become structured and rigid, but his foggy mind still made it a little too hard to concentrate fully.

Logan was dressed in his night clothes, simple attire, and standing at the door. "We can never know until we attempt."

"I tried in Roman's room already and it made things worse. What if this does too?"

Logan approached the bed and took a seat opposite Virgil. "Again, we won't know until we try."

"I know that." Virgil sighed and fell back on the bed. He stared up at Logan, who just looked back down at him. "But…what if it's worse again?"

Logan winced at the suggestion. He and Patton hadn't taken the news very well when Roman explained what happened that morning. Patton looked nearly panicked and Logan looked concerned. They discussed what should be done next while Virgil sat there at the table, staring down at his bowl of cereal, watching some of the cheerios float around endlessly in the milk. Everything after that was a blur, as most days were after an awful nightmare like that, and the next thing he knew he was in Logan's room to sleep for the night.

"We won't know until we try," Logan only repeated.

Virgil groaned and sat up quickly. "Of course we won't know! But Thomas also won't know if he'll like bungee jumping until he tries but that might kill…him…ooooh." Virgil held his head. He'd had a headache for a while and now his head was swimming like the cheerios.

Logan put his hands on Virgil's arms, steadying him. When it was clear that Virgil wasn't about to pass out, Logan retracted his hands. "You need sleep. The threat of nightmares may be scary, but I will be here to wake you if they are too much to handle. The logical structure of my room should help disperse any fears that make no sense. There will be no ghouls or demons haunting you when it's clear that they don't exist."

Virgil was pretty sure that they did exist, no matter what Logan's logic said, but he only nodded. He was exhausted. He wanted sleep. If there was a chance that he could actually sleep well, then Virgil would try it, even with the risk of nightmares. He'd experienced them plenty of times before. He could handle it…or so he thought

After laying down to sleep, Virgil passed out nearly immediately, with Logan close behind him. For a moment thing were blissfully silent, with no dreams in sight, but that changed soon enough. There were no demons or ghouls, as Logan had predicted, but there were other things. Thomas losing his job and living on the streets, Thomas going hungry, Thomas dying in more practical ways like a car accident or getting hit by a bus or a plane crashing or getting robbed, and then there was a gun, a gun in Virgil's face, evil laughter, being roughed up, gunshots and blood and darkness—

Virgil awoke in Logan's arms, a scream strangling him. He swallowed it down and gripped Logan's arms tightly, his body quaking as adrenaline continued its course through his body. Virgil noticed that a lamp was knocked over, and he had a feeling he knew who had hit it.

"I'm sorry," Virgil whispered, gripping Logan's arms tighter.

Logan only shook his head. " _I'm_  sorry," he said. "I thought that this environment would calm you but it seems to not have that effect. I…I failed." Logan inhaled slowly. "I'm sorry."

Virgil shook his head and tried to will him to relax. "That's not your fault, Logan. I'm the one who can't get a grip."

"This is not a situation in which you can…'get a grip'. The subconscious mind is bringing out more intense fears, most likely as a result of your role as Thomas's anxiety…But this is…most troubling."

"Tell me about it…" Virgil turned to look at the clock beside Logan, hoping that he got at least a few hours before the nightmares kicked in. Much to his dismay, it had only been two hours.

* * *

 

When it was Patton's turn, Virgil had just about given up. He sat on Patton's bed, eyes unfocused as he stared at the colorful carpet. Patton sat down beside him, nudging him out of his thoughts. Virgil looked at Patton, who presented him with a stuffed bear.

"I thought it might help to have a buddy with you while you sleep," Patton said with a sheepish smile. "I'll still be here, of course, but I thought you might be more comfortable hugging this little guy than me. I know how you feel about physical contact."

Virgil wanted to say that he didn't really mind physical contact, it was just the surprise of hugs from behind or touching him without permission that bugged him. But Virgil was too tired to find the words, so he only accepted the bear from Patton and hugged it close.

"I know you're scared," said Patton, "and that you aren't too confident in this whole thing anymore. But I think we still have a shot. Anything can happen in here. You can get a full night's rest, have a good dream—"

"Or another nightmare," Virgil mumbled, burying his face in the head of the bear. Patton put his hand on Virgil's back and Virgil let out a moan. He was starting to believe that he would never get proper sleep again. He'd only gotten about two hours of sleep that week and it was wearing down on him. He couldn't experience any health ramifications because he was only a part of Thomas's personality, but if he shut down then Thomas would be left without anxiety and that wouldn't be good either.

"You'll be okay kiddo," Patton said gently. "I'll be right here."

Virgil lifted his head from the bear and looked at Patton. Whatever expression he was making must have been worrisome because Patton gave him a look of pure sympathy—or maybe it was pity? Virgil looked down, trying not to think about it. "So was Roman, and so was Logan. And it didn't help. All they could do was try to calm me down, and that's great and all, but…I want sleep, Patton."

"Then we should try to get some." He rubbed Virgil's back in smooth, rhythmic circles. "I know that it's scary and you think you won't get good sleep but you should try anyway. Even a little bit of sleep is better than nothing."

Patton had a point, and Virgil knew it. But that didn't stop the dread that seeped into his heart as he slipped under the covers and let Patton tuck him in. The room made Virgil feel overly emotional and that was…troubling. He wasn't used to it, and it made every little emotion—happiness or sadness or in this case, dread—grow exponentially. Virgil hugged the bear tightly and closed his eyes. Sleep claimed him quickly.

In his dream, there were no monsters lurking in the shadows or violent thugs out to harm Thomas or suspense so thick that it suffocated him. Instead, Virgil's more realistic, more emotional, fears came to light. His insecurities, his uncertainties, his self-loathing and uncomfortableness with his own role as a Side; they all came to the forefront of his dream, and they were presented by the other Sides. Criticisms rained down on him and cut him like blades, their voices booming as though through speakers, and the weight of their pressure dropping onto Virgil like cement, like the weight of the sky and the world rested on him. He was Atlas holding up his own emotional burdens that he'd managed to store away in a box, deep inside, where he couldn't see. Now it had opened and spilled everything into his lap and he couldn't hold it before it had buried him. He wasn't good enough, he hurt Thomas, he would only make more mistakes and what progress he had made with the Sides would be lost as he was buried beneath its contents and emotions and he was drowning and falling and—

Virgil woke up sobbing and shaking, unable to breathe. Patton held his hands and coached him through breathing exercises, but Virgil felt like his heart had been physically ripped in two. Fear he could handle, because fear went away, but these emotions remained even after Virgil had caught his breath and stopped his tears. They remained in the way his lips quivered and shoulders shook and head throbbed, long after Patton had calmed him down and he'd left the room.

* * *

 

"I don't know what to do," Logan admitted. He, Patton, and Roman sat on the couch while Virgil stood. He'd refused to sit down, for fear that even the simplest level of comfort would drop him back off to sleep. Virgil was sick of the nightmares and the mental torture they provided him every time he drifted off.

Roman stared at the ceiling. He was obviously frustrated. Even through his sleepy haze, Virgil could see it. "Neither do I. How can we not know what to do? It's just sleep!"

"It's nightmares. It's not as though we are real people that can go and request therapy from a psychiatrist to figure out what's wrong. We aren't real and Virgil's nightmares aren't affecting Thomas in any way that he would need to seek help."

Patton made a distressed noise and fiddled with his cardigan sleeves. "There has to be something we can do."

Logan sighed. "We've tried what we could. Our rooms only seemed to make matters worse. Virgil has gotten minimal sleep this week that amounts to nearly nothing!"

"You're going to upset him," Patton said softly.

"He's barely processing anything," Roman replied, his gaze not moving from the ceiling. Virgil stared at Roman, as though hoping that he would feel his stare and look and  _see_  that yes, he  _was_  processing. But Roman didn't move and Patton seemed to buy what Roman said, even when he looked at Virgil. Maybe Virgil's stare was too dead-eyed to convey understanding.

"Still," said Logan, "we must figure out something."

Roman finally sat up and turned to look at Logan. "There's nothing we can do! You said it yourself, you have no idea what this is or how to fix it. We're going to run him into the ground if we keep trying to help him. At least before he could still get some sleep, or at least more than before. We've only tortured him with more nightmares since volunteering to help!"

"Roman calm down," Patton pleaded.

"How can I? Have you seen him?" Roman gestured wildly to Virgil. "Look at him! I don't know how he's still standing! At this rate, what do you think is going to happen? He's magically going to get cured because we tried hard enough and stayed calm? At this rate, Virgil probably won't sleep again!"

A sound akin to a sob left Virgil's mouth, earning their attention on him at once. He was being a burden to them. He was worrying them. He should have tried to play off the fainting spell more, and come up with a different reason. Say it was a prank. Make them hate him again so they wouldn't bother paying attention to him. That way he could just stay in his room forever and deal with it himself. Now he's worrying them and putting them through all this trouble, not to mention the stuff he broke in their rooms. He just made a mess of things, like he always did.

"Oh, Virgil," Patton whispered when the tears began falling. He got to his feet and went to Virgil's side at once, with Roman and Logan following. "Virgil, you don't have to cry."

Patton's gentle tone only made Virgil cry harder. He was so exhausted. Everything hurt, and everything was hazy like he was looking through fog and his head still throbbed and his heart ached. He wanted to sleep without any dreams, just be in blissful nothingness and wake up feeling rested for once instead of more tired than before and hateful and irritated at facing the day. Virgil wanted to feel actual rest, for once. He couldn't even remember what sleeping through the night felt like.

"I'm so tired," Virgil said, his voice thin like wisps of cotton. His breaths came in gasps between each wracking sob. "I just want to sleep, for once. I haven't slept in so long, in years. I just…I-I want to sleep again."

Suddenly arms were around him and Virgil only barely processed that Patton was hugging him. "We're so sorry," Patton said, his voice sounding like it was verging on tears. Now Virgil was going to make Patton cry. He was the worst. Maybe this was just some punishment, because of how awful he was. He wouldn't get to sleep so long as he hurt others and was so terrible.

More arms, this time Virgil was pretty sure it was Roman's, as he said, "If we could give you sleep, we would. We just don't know what to do. But we're going to figure out a solution. We promise we will."

Logan even joined, taking one of Virgil's hands and squeezing tightly. "This can't last forever. As Roman said, we will come up with a solution and implement it, no matter what."

Virgil didn't understand. This wasn't at all like his dream in Patton's room. They hated him, they had to. And now they were just going to help him? Wasn't he burdening them? He was crying like a fool and making Patton cry and just making them feel obligated to help. This wasn't fair. He was just tired and the world was spinning, and Virgil felt his legs give out from under him, either out of exhaustion physically or emotionally or both, but Patton caught him and held him up. They drifted as a group, to the couch, Virgil still crying. He was sandwiched between them, being held. His tears seemed endless, like a well that had been dammed up and only finally burst with too much water to contain. On and on, every sob built and felt and gave way to more, until his sheer exhaustion claimed him, along with the other Sides. Together they drifted asleep, one another's whimpering fading into silence after the fatigue of the week had set in and sent them down a floating river.

And that night, for the first time in years, being held by the Sides, feeling safe and warm and secure and loved, Virgil slept and slept and didn't wake up until he was rested.


End file.
